A Voice Across the Void, Ch 01
by Zoltan Berrigomo
Summary: <html><head></head>A padawan comes across an ancient Sith holocron during an archaeological field trip and keeps the discovery secret from his masters.</html>


**1.**

There it was: a glimmering ebony pyramid nestled among the pines. Strange that the masters had missed it while it took Noval barely a moment to spot it across the glade. How beautiful, he thought as he walked over to pick it up. A voice across the void of time, long-lost secrets hiding beneath the dark surface, simply lying there reflecting the sun's bright rays on a warm afternoon.

He drew his hand towards the holocron and slid it into the folds of his robe.

"I should inform the masters," he thought and felt the pleasure of being the first of the padawans to find something of value on this planet. But his next thought turned to the artifact's certain destruction. He stood indecisive, feeling the holocron's coldness against his skin.

"There is little point in looking over that location padawan," came the serene voice from behind him. Master Pavarr sat cross-legged at the center of the glade, barely twenty feet away. "I have thoroughly examined that stretch of pine earlier."

"Yes, Master," he shouted back (a touch too eagerly?), taking care to set himself in motion. He wandered haphazardly through the forest until he was sure to be out of sight and then pulled it out of his robe and held it close. It felt icy to the touch and and almost buzzed in his hands, and yet he was certain the object neither moved nor made noise.

**2. **

"Shouldn't we hesitate before taking a life?"

He interrupted Master Shayn's lesson that morning, a recitation of all the factions which ruled this planet as galactic politics twisted and turned over millenia. The Master looked back at Noval flatly.

"A holocron is not alive, Padawan. It is an imprint of a mind, an echo. The Sith who created them have most likely been dead for centuries. Left here, they will no doubt shepherd someone to the dark side given enough time. It is crucial we immediately destroy any that we find here."

The wise choice would be to nod and offer a polite thanks for the dispensation of wisdom. Noval had so far received no offers of tutelage from any of the Masters in the order, and time was slowly running out. Each day he learned of a new padawan paired up with a Master while he remained unapproached. The end of the academic year was close, a matter of weeks, and if he had not received an offer by then he would likely not be allowed continue in the order. A reputation for being stubborn was unlikely to help matters.

"But Master," he went on, unable to stop himself, "under the right circumstances, this so-called echo within the holocron can converse, can it not? And when it does converse, it seems to say the same things as most other sentients. I've have heard it said holocrons speak of thoughts, intentions, desires, even love."

Noval paused. Most of the other padawans seemed to be looking at him with barely concealed impatience.

"I don't know what it really means to be alive, but shouldn't we begin with the assumption that holocrons deserve the protections we give to sentient beings?"

Master Shayn seemed unimpressed. "Always remember that you are but a novice in the Jedi way, padawan. If you become a Jedi, you will know what it means to feel the resonance of a living soul in the force. I assure you a holocron has no such thing."

Turning away from Noval, he proceeded with the lecture.

**3. **

He wandered away the next day, the ninth they had been searching through the remainders of ancient temples on this planet. The Masters supervised the expedition very loosely and he had little trouble prying away from his fellow students. He found a clearing in the forest, out of sight and far away from any of the temples where he might have encountered other padawans searching.

He spent a few hours sitting in front of it, marvelling at its eerie beauty. How could he unlock it? Any questions to the masters would instantly arouse suspicion. He tried focusing all the force energy he could muster on the little pyramid, drawing every bit he could from the currents that were madly swirling around the ruins on this planet. Yet nothing happened and it only seemed to shimmer in his hands indifferently.

**4**.

He didn't do well at lightsaber practice that afternoon. It took barely a minute for him to be disarmed by his opponent, a padawan named Jann who, embarrassingly, had began training a year after he did, and the look of contempt on Jann's face stung. Even worse, the masters were watching, and though their faces betrayed no emotion, he could swear the imperturbable lips of Master Pavarr arranged themselves into something strongly resembling a frown.

He seemed to be lacking focus during the battles. "There is no emotion, there is peace…" he repeated ad nauseum before each bout. The words were easy to say but didn't seem to have any discernible effect.

He was never good at the lightsaber and he seemed to be getting worse each day. Most of the students in the academy practiced day and night, sometimes sneaking into the arenas of the temple when no one was watching, sometimes hacking away at each other with sticks. By contrast, Noval always tried to spend as little time as possible at lightsaber practice. "Remarkable," he thought bitterly, "remarkable how many think the most wonderful thing about being a Jedi is the ability to wave around an illuminated stick." He sighed. "Doesn't matter," he told himself, "back at the academy I'll get back to skipping practice and never put myself through this again."

He tried to slink away after his humiliation in the ring this afternoon but Reena, one of the students he was friendly with, caught up to him and began a conversation in spite of his all too evident desire to disappear. Reena started at the academy the same year as he did and they had been close friends for a long time before growing apart in recent years.

"Always the provocateur," she sighed at him. "I can never tell if you mean what you say. Do you seriously mean to suggest that holocrons are people?"

These days their friendship seemed to consist of her being exasperated by him. She had grown more dutiful since their early days in the academy when they always seemed to be having a laugh at the expense of the masters.

"I don't know if holocrons literally _are_ people. Perhaps holocrons are different in their nature entirely - or perhaps not. I can't say. They sure do seem to be alive sometimes, don't they?"

In truth, Noval was grateful to have an interlocutor. Few of the other padawans took him seriously.

"Yes, but they only seem to be so - they aren't _really _alive," Reena replied in her usual slightly irritated tone. "Well, I won't bother to argue with you - a simple demonstration should be sufficient. Come with."

He followed her to her tent where she carefully extracted something small and shiny from one of her boxes.

A holocron!

But this one was snow white and Noval could feel nothing from it, no plays of light, no sense of almost-movement.

"My grandfather," Reena said by way of explanation. "Or, rather, what remains of him. He made this when he was close to death. I'll unlock it now."

"How?" Noval spat out.

She looked at him with incomprehension.

"I meant to ask - how _does _one unlock a holocron?"

"I simply think of him - my grandfather that is - while focusing force on the holocron. It won't take more than a moment."

"What if I did it?" 

"What?"

"I'm asking," Noval went on, "suppose I focused on the holocron, thinking of your grandfather. Would he appear?"

"I'm not sure," Reena said thoughtfully. "Probably not. From my what I understand, nothing will happen unless my grandfather desires to appear, which he is unlikely to if you called him forth."

"Anyway," she said eyeing him, "why do you ask?"

"Just trying to understand how things work. Go ahead."

She looked at him curiously before turning away and closing her eyes in focus. He took the opportunity to cast an unhurried glance at her, and, as always, was starstruck by her simple and elegant looks, the curves on her face which radiated thoughtfulness. Not impossible that she'll come to see things my way, he said to himself.

Rays of light began to pour out of the holocron.

"Welcome, honored elder," Reena intoned. "May the days of your life be as many as the autumn raindrops."

"Greetings, child." The rays of light had now coalesced into a small figure and a voice light as a wisp. "May your path be straight as an arrow, and just as sharp." He squinted. "Where are we, child? I see trees."

"Planet Nar Mantell, grandfather. We are on a field trip searching for ancient artifacts here. Grandfather, there is someone here who has a few questions for you. This is Noval."

He turned to look at Noval as if he had not noticed him before.

"He is extremely interested in holocrons, grandfather. I thought you might answer some of his questions."

The old man chuckled. "Why not? I'm more than happy to play my part in the education of youth. Someone has to."

"Well, grandfather, we were wondering - are you alive?"

This seemed to bring forth even more chuckles. "What a question! No, child, I am not alive. The real me died some decades ago. This is a record of the man who once was."

Reena looked at him triumphantly.

"Honored elder," Noval began, "I wonder if I could ask you whether you still feel the same sensations you did when you were alive - pain? pleasure? hunger?"

"I no longer feel any of the primal instincts," the old man seemed to smile inwardly, "no hunger. There is nothing that could cause me to feel physical pain. But I do take pleasure in things. It gives me great pleasure, for example, to see my grand-daughter take her first steps to become a Jedi."

"What is it like," Noval continued, "between the times you talk to someone? Do you sense the time passing?"

"It is as if I'm in a dream. Images from my life wash over me."

"Which images, if I may ask?"

The old man paused.

"Seeing my wife for the very first time, for example. We were both padawans at the academy at the time. Her funeral, decades later."

His face changed and it was hard to say what emotion it expressed.

"She became a Jedi, you know, and I did not. I think of our first kiss, when I was frighteningly nervous with anticipation, and she seemed so self-assured. "

He smiled now with some embarrassment.

"I was proud of my wife, you know, of her role in putting in an end to the disorders convulsing the galaxy. And she gave me Reena's mother, the apple of my eye."

"These don't seem like altogether pleasant dreams you are having," Noval said.

The old man didn't seem offended. "When you grow up, you'll see that life is about a little more than seeking out pleasure."

Noval bowed. It seemed like the appropriate gesture. There seemed to be little more to ask.

"Thank you for your insights, honored elder."

The old man nodded, wishing them peace, and the holocron flickered off until it stood motionless in Reena's hands.

"I hope that was convincing," she said, looking up at him. "He said it himself, plain as day."

"Perhaps," Noval wondered how much she believed what she said. "With all the so-called serenity we have in the order, I'd say he is more alive than half the masters I've met."

**5.**

So it seemed that he had to make whatever it was was inside the holocron _want_ to appear. But how to do that? He found some empty space in the forest and once again spent a few hours focusing on it. Come think of it, why did he want to unlock it? Why not simply turn the damn thing over to the masters and be done with it?

He wasn't sure why unlocking this mystery felt so important to him now. Perhaps he stubbornly believed the arguments about holocrons being alive and did not wish to see the thing eviscerated. But even if wasn't alive, it still wasn't right to destroy it. Imagine everything that could be learned from it, he thought, all the knowledge that could come from talking to a being who was around countless ages ago.

The thought of discovering something new about the past, maybe something major, maybe something that would change the way people thought about galactic history made him slightly giddy. Besides, he thought, what if the new knowledge turned out to be key for the Jedi? It was a long-shot, sure, but the long-term success of the Jedi order would probably hinge on making the right decisions. Assimilating all the knowledge out there certainly seemed like a good idea.

But several hours spent in such reflections produced no changes in the holocron.

**6. **

Saber practice was even worse the following afternoon. He was paired with a boy who began training two years after him, and once again, as the rest of the padawans stood and watched, he was disarmed in barely a minute. Standing defenseless in front of his opponent, panting, he saw the boy's lips curl into a very un-Jedi grimace of triumph.

He was called into Master Shayn's tent in the evening. A droid brought the request and he walked over with a sinking heart. Had someone noticed his holocron? That must be it. How would he justify hiding it for as long as he did?

"I will say I was going to turn it over after examining it," he resolved. It was a weak defence, but it was all he had.

Entering, he found both Shayn and Pavarr conferring in low tones. He waited at the entrance as they kept talking, casting low glances at him, before motioning him to come closer.

"As you know, padawan," Shayn began "not all padawans are chosen to become Jedi knights. Many are not selected for further tutelage by the masters and serve the Republic in other capacities, as they are able."

He paused, seeming to wait for some sort of reply from Noval.

"Indeed, master, this is known to me."

"We believe it is very unlikely that you will be selected for further training," Pavarr continued in, his voice soft and steady. "It is not impossible, of course. But we have made inquiries among all the masters that have interacted with you and no one has expressed an interest in taking you on."

Noval caught his breath. The news hit him like a cold gust of wind in the face. He paused, trying to steady his thoughts. When he was sure his voice would not quiver, he said "May I ask why, Masters?"

"It is believed that you do not have the temperament to be a Jedi," Shayn said. "Every Jedi must know how to defer to the wisdom of others. I myself defer to the Jedi council, who themselves defer to the Jedi teachings."

"A Jedi prone to take matters into his own hands is a dangerous thing indeed," Pavarr added. "I cannot take the responsibility of educating such a one."

"Our path is not easy," Pavarr continued, "it requires much forbearance and patience. There is tremendous danger of falling to the dark side. Each of us is responsible for the students we train."

"The prevailing consensus," Shayn said, "is that you are too headstrong. To attached to your opinions. Too argumentative. Unwilling or unable to defer to the wisdom of your superiors. These are traits that lead to the dark side."

"Of course," Shayn concluded, "you may attempt to find a master who thinks differently. That is your prerogative. We wish you the best of luck, but, as we said, none that have interacted with you during your time in the academy wish to take you on."

"Of course, there are the Masters who do not have a direct familiarity with you," Pavarr took over, "and they often come to the academy looking for padawans. We have a group of visitors coming in just after we will depart this planet and arrive back in the academy in a few weeks, in fact. But they usually pick students based on proficiency with the saber, and in that area, you are, I'm afraid, not very advanced."

Noval stood in silence, his mind racing. He knew enough of these two to know that attempting to persuade them was hopeless.

"Thank you, Masters," he said after steading his thoughts, "I appreciate the advance notice you have given me."

Shayn and Pavarr shared a satisfied glance.

"We are glad to see you are taking it calmly," Pavarr said. "Your time in the order, however brief, was not for nothing." He reached behind him and pulled a manilla folder from the desk behind him. "There are a number of agencies within the Republic that have historically been keen to employ our former padawans. Do take a look at the references we have put together for you. "

Noval took the folder, bowed slightly in a gesture of thanks, and turned to exit the tent.

**7.**

Inside of him, it was as if a dam had broken and his emotions came out flooding. Years of hard work, all for nothing. All his dreams of changing the galaxy gone, and the order leaves him to find himself a job - a job! - and spend the rest of his days writing reports and getting drunk with coworkers at the local cantina.

He found himself walking as fast as his legs could take him. Soon he was deep inside the ancient forest. To think of all the evenings he spent memorizing the mystical gibberish of the order, the time he spent trying to penetrate it, to peek behind the veil and get a glimpse of what the old masters meant. The number of times he held his tongue and dutifully accepted a rebuke from a master. All for nothing.

What now? He briefly entertained the notion of entering a lightsaber competition when they returned to the academy, of trying to impress the visiting masters who will be watching. But it would be useless, he knew there was no way he could make up for years of neglect in a matter of weeks.

Damn the Jedi and their closed-mindedness, he thought bitterly. There was something deeply wrong the order, something rotten to the core. It was - and the thought struck him so clearly all of a sudden that he could not believe it didn't occur to him before - it was a failed order. The Jedi were to bring peace to the galaxy but there was no peace, the galaxy was always convulsing in war after war, more often than not led by former Jedi.

Deference, he remembered suddenly the words of Master Pavarr, it was the ability to defer that he lacked. Perhaps if there less of that going around, perhaps if the masters deferred a little less to the council and the council a little less to the old teachings, the order might be more successful.

Perhaps it was for the best, he thought, for now he could stop pretending that he wasn't human. The order trained him to deny his emotions, but it was those emotions that made him what he is. "Peace is a lie, there is only passion," the words popped into his mind and felt appropriate. He couldn't recall where he heard the phrase. He could never become something other than human, not for long anyway. No wonder that many Jedi snapped and went on mad dark-side rampages after decades of ritual self-denial.

All of a sudden, he gasped with pain. Something was burning, something scalding pressed to his leg. He tore his robe and it rolled out of it.

The holocron.

It was bright red and the rays it emitted began coalescing into something.

Noval squinted. It was a woman, he suddenly realized. Short hair, black robe, an elegant face, somewhat harshly sloped, not young, but certainly not old, perhaps a few decades older than himself and, the thought struck him, beautiful.

She looked at him appraisingly for a moment and smiled.

**8.**

Noval did better at lightsaber practice the following afternoon. After winning some bouts against the youngest padawans, he was paired up with Jann once again, and, though he ended up disarmed, this time the duel seemed to go on interminably and Jann looked relieved once it was over. Noval did not seem disappointed, his face looking calm and steady as he watched his lightsaber knocked away. He bowed gracefully once it was over with a half-smile on his lips.

"Poor man," thought Master Shayn. "He must be going through a stage of grief."

Noval continued to improve in the following days. His form tightened up, his strokes became quicker, his movements more agile. He asked to fight Jann again a few days hence and won, not once, but twice: first by a seeming stroke of luck, and the second time almost carelessly. He began to make short work of all of the younger students and the masters started pairing him up with the padawans in his cohort.

He seemed to have an uncanny ability to guess his opponent's moves. No one could say how he always seemed to be in the right place; some padawans suggested he calculated his opponent's intentions using the force, but he did not seem to be drawing upon it more than anyone else; others suggested he was merely good at reading footwork and tried to fool him by improvising, always unsuccessfully.

Noval's rapid improvements raised some eyebrows. "How is it possible to learn so much so quickly?" Shayn asked Pavarr during one of the duels when Noval seemed to get better by a month of work relative to the previous day. The two masters watched Noval battle, focusing their minds and getting glimpses of his thoughts. They saw only intense concentration, strong efforts to align body and mind.

They left the planet two weeks to the day after Master Shayn and Pavarr delivered the disappointing news to him. By then, Noval was routinely beating all the other padawans. Watching him disarm the lanky boy who was the best among them only a week ago, Reena thought he looked as if he was dancing. His motions had a certain elegance to them, one movement seeming flowing into the next, no distinct parries, feints, or thrusts, just one indivisible waltz of movement.

The trip turned out to be failure: no artifacts were found and the theories about this planet's history that led Master Shayn and Pavarr to organize this trip ended up untested. The padawans were glad to get back to their friends and looked forward to living in the comforts of the academy once more.

As their shuttle landed, Shayn caught Noval's eye and felt a twinge of pity for him, or at least as much as a Jedi Master can feel something akin to pity. "He must have been working very hard" he said to Pavarr, leaning over. "A shame it will do him no good. "

"Indeed," Pavarr concurred, "he'll have to defeat the best swordsmen in the academy to get the attention of the visiting masters. His competitors have spent most of their lives practicing the saber. If he had more time perhaps he could succeed, but as things stand... " his voice trailed off.

But the masters were proven wrong once again. Three days after returning to the academy, Noval entered a lightsaber competition and placed first.

It was not just his victory that was eye-catching but also his measured demeanor. Whereas his opponents seemed to bring a fierce determination to the matches, coupling thrusts with spikes of emotion that were instantly felt and silently disapproved by the watchful masters, Noval's exterior remained calm and no emotional outbursts were ever noticed coming from him. His saber style was clean, free of theatricality, quietly efficient, and even the best students in the academy could not stand for long against him.

When Reena heard he had received several offers of tutelage, she rushed to his chambers to offer his congratulations. She had always hoped Noval would go on to become a Jedi. Though he never seemed to fit in well within the academy, the order somehow seemed to be less without him. But he was nowhere to be found, and his roommate told her that he had been distant of late, leaving early in the mornings and coming back late at night. "Amazing that he did so well in that tournament while getting so little sleep," he said with poorly hidden jealousy.

She left him several messages with warm congratulations and requests for a celebratory meal, all unreturned.

A few days later, in the early hours of the morning as she was still sluggishly waking, she overheard a conversation among a group of students walking past her chambers and heard Noval mentioned in connection with a departing shuttle. Throwing on her clothes, she rushed to the landing pad, and there he was, shoulders hunched, looking uncertainly at the droids carrying crates on and off a shuttle which looked as if it might depart any minute.

She was expecting him to look happy and carefree. Instead he seemed to be anxious, eyes darting aimlessly in the cold morning breeze, and hands deep in his pockets.

His eyes brightened up when he saw her. She thought she might receive a cold reception after he avoided her, but he greeted her with a beaming smile and a warm hug.

"Congratulations," she said after disengaging, "I can't tell you how happy I am. Which master will you choose? Wait, I know - I'd bet anything you've chosen Master Doshan."

Doshan, a former scholar, was thought to be among the most cerebral of the Jedi masters. His students told stories of staying up late into the night, arguing fine points of Jedi doctrine. She had heard a rumor several days back that he had made an offer to Noval.

"In fact, I've chosen Master Nimbo," he replied slightly sheepishly. Nimbo prized combat skills above all else, and he could always be relied on to win battles against incredible odds. He was also mocked by the padawans for his less than complete knowledge of Jedi practices. Several years ago one of the older students swore he heard Master Nimbo mangle the Jedi code, though this was mostly likely exaggeration.

"You surprise me," she said.

"I surprise myself," he replied with some bitterness.

They stood silently for a moment.

"Tell me, Reena," he said suddenly, "do you believe the order will bring peace to the galaxy?"

She looked at him with some confusion. "That came out of nowhere," she said. "Peace - isn't that what we are fighting for?"

"Sure, its what we are fighting for," he parried. "Do you think we will succeed?"

She paused. "You know, I never thought much about it." She hesitated. "Fighting for the right thing is honorable, regardless of whether one succeeds or not. That is enough for me."

"I'm not sure its enough for me," he replied a little curtly. "The order has existed for thousands of years. You know history as well as I do - the one thing the galaxy has not had is lasting peace. Do you really think we'll succeed where all the famous masters have failed?"

"When you put it that way, maybe not. But," she looked straight at him, "if not this, then what? What else is there besides serving the Republic? "

"Good question," he said, looking straight at her. The droids had ceased carrying crates and the shuttle's pilot was now shouting instructions over the increasingly deafening roar of the engines.

"You and I," he went on quickly, "we were always the ones asking questions, weren't we? The ones no one else wanted to ask?"

She nodded.

"Maybe one day we'll have some answers." He began to say something else but it was lost in the rumble of the engines, which were now drowning them out completely. He reached over and gave her a brief hug before turning to the shuttle and walking away.


End file.
